


The white Wings of Death scatter our Days

by dr_zook



Series: Vestigium Dei [1]
Category: Bible (New Testament), The Bible
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bible slash, Bibleslash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Michael met with Lucifer in modern time Rome, the latter has a date. And he's not amused about how things went so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The white Wings of Death scatter our Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liriaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liriaen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Via Lata Diaries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/47460) by [liriaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liriaen/pseuds/liriaen). 



_a voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings_  
_for even as love crowns you so shall it crucify you_  
_descend to your roots and shake them from their clinging to the earth_  
_we shall be together when the white wings of death scatter our days_

_[MINSK - The white Wings of Death scatter our Days]_

 

The sleek man with the spiffy sunglasses is rather shocked: he almost ran over his date. Quite literally, because he was so busy rummaging for the smokes in the jacket of his three piece suit that he trips over a pair of crossed ankles extending to his route.

"Sonofa-" he hisses, but holds his tongue in time. Then snorts as he recognizes the gentleman, who seems too absorbed by the other visitors and by-passers floating around him, and rather reluctantly draws back his long legs. It would take _days_ to discuss _this_ guy's mother being a whore or not.

"I beg your pardon," the obstacle remarks quietly. "I'm glad you could make it." And his gaze scorches its way through the dark glasses, directly into the gleaming amber pools there. The stumbling made a petal of the corn poppy boutonniere tumble to the ground and fancy black half-brogue Oxfords crush it involuntarily, as he catches his stride.

The man sitting in front of him seems to be of no certain age; but look, there are wrinkles framing his deepwisegleaming grey eyes, yes. He's laid back against the stairs of the Altar of Augustine Peace. Lucifer actually expects museum guards to show up any second. Then he reminds himself of his companion and shrugs, finally lighting a cigarette. Either the guards come because of the lout on the stairs-- or because of his fellow lout smoking in here.

"I'm not so sure about this, yet, my dear rabbi," Lucifer says with a greeting nod and spits out, something brown-greasy, shortly missing the left corner of the altar. Heh. The plain and white pavilion brought up around it looks almost too pristine for his liking.

The evening sun spills her gold through the huge windows between the pillars and Jeshua has to squint his eyes when they follow Lucifer strolling nonchalantly towards her. The Devil stops then at the edge of the platform, takes another deep and long draw to eventually exhale the smoke languidly.

He really doesn't know how to go on from here, he has to admit. Minutes pass slowly.

"Would you mind turning around?" There is something besides the usual self-assurance in Jeshua's voice. It makes the request sound chary and suppliant.

Lucifer swallows and hears his own pulse thundering through his ears and the leaves rustling too loud in front of the pavilion. Really, it should be easier, by now, to simply withstand the demand. But the sheer possibility of weakness in Jeshua's voice makes him sick with disgust and anger. And he won't comply with nobody's demands any more, for fuck's sake. He made this quite clear millennia ago. And so he curses himself and his feeble will when he slowly turns around. The pillar behind his back is almost gnashing as he lays his fingers on it for support.

"You're still stubborn, morning star." Lucifer perceives the hint of a smile adorning the corners of the other's mouth. Though he can't see it, for he stares at the altar tiles between them. But he recognizes the tone. He can even imagine the slight tilt of Jeshua's head, if he concentrated. The floral spirals adorning the tiles are truly beautiful. Almost Art Nouveau style-– but that was about 1,900 years later... "Yet I can assure you: this is not about power or lordship. Or love." Lucifer's eyes are instantly drawn back to Jeshua's, his mind blank of any art history at all. "Well, maybe it is about love. I don't know yet."

_Isn't everything you say or do about your fucking love? I even feel it now, radiating in crushing tides from your manifestation._ It's nauseating Lucifer and he is almost on the verge of hysterics, tempted to crush something delicate. He didn't fathom it would take so much countenance and strength to meet. What a fool he was.

Jeshua still looks like the common man. Nothing special at first glance. Lucifer suspects though that even tied up, blind-folded and muted, Jeshua would be able to strike any soul in an instant. And here the human part of the fucking holy trinity sits, his sinewy legs clad in dark brown slacks; they must have been expensive, once. Now they look used and well-worn. His hair is not long enough to obscure his eyes; it's still chestnut-brown and messy.

"What do you want?" Lucifer's tongue his heavy. "You must admit: this is rather uncommon. It's usually me who somehow got hold of you, Jeshua." He's overwhelmed by the gnawing pain and the loss and the spite and -of all things- the insane urge to fall onto his knees.

It wasn't that bad last time.

He doesn't know hat could have changed everything that much.

"And here you send your fucking herald down below. To announce that you've decided an appointment for us. How _dare_ you, I ask?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to appear as complacent."

Lucifer snorts. "Well, you do." He's enraged.

And Jeshua doesn't do much more than sitting and watching him loose his temper. Not in a disgusted or chiding way. He looks like biding his time. It whips Lucifer's anger even more.

"Are you even aware of what you're doing? Here, now? With me?" Lucifer laughs exasperated. "And you know what? Of all creatures around, I should be able to define Hell, no? They say, Hell would be other people. Others say, being away from you would be Hell." The utter and devastating loss ruts inside his belly and it's weakening his ire. "I tried both. I mingled with people. Then I strayed and wandered across desolated plains and vast deserts. Waded through leadbearing jungles and sailed the rough and unforgiving oceans. My guises were countless and my companions very, very few."

Jeshua listens closely, nods understandingly. Spins some thoughts between his pretty temples and when he understands that Lucifer is probably done with words, he says: "You spent a lot of time around here."

It's neither a question, nor an accusation. Maybe an affirmation. By all means it's completely uncalled-for in Lucifer's opinion. He snorts and extracts another cigarette from his jacket. Takes off his glasses to put them into its breast pocket. Rakes a very slightly trembling hand through his jet-black hair.

"Sounds like you're more attached to this, though," Jeshua continues with a vague gesture that includes their surroundings, the ground they're meeting on, the soil beneath, and the rose-tinted sky above. "You grew to like it, don't you?"

The dangling cigarette slips from between Lucifer's lips as he stares agape. The matches fall unused to the ground, and faster than he can comprehend he has Jeshua shoved up against the carefully maintained marble. The white button-down shirt is crumpling between his slender fingers and Jeshua's warmth seeps through every pore. Radiating again. Lucifer's head spins. Jeshua's eyes flutter close, like he expects a blow.

_What the fuck? Why are you still smelling like sandalwood?_ Lucifer's nostrils flare and the tip of his tongue flicks against the shell of Jeshua's ear.

"Oh, you're so goddamned wrong, Jeshua," he hisses furiously, his other hand buried in the hair of the nape of Jeshua's neck. But he won't start now about how much he despises this godforsaken shitpile of dirt and snot and feigned mirth. "Don't you mock me! I didn't show up for this."

Then Jeshua finally meets his glare. There are tiny white speckles adorning his grey irises, like stars. Uncountable. He looks like he's up for some suffering again, but this time Lucifer refrains from complying.

"I won't ask again, so tell me already: why?" His voice is flat and strong, athough not his usual sharp talk.

"You should listen to me more closely," Jeshua insists calmly. "I just told you." The nimble fingers of his right hand cling onto Lucifer's ridiculously expensive snakeskin belt. The left is flat against the dark cloth over his sternum; not shoving him away, but keeping him at a certain distance. And then the pieces fall together.

Lucifer loosens his vice-tight grip and scrambles from between Jeshua's spread legs. He almost falls down the platform of the altar. "You said I'd be more attached to this, right?"

Jeshua nods matter-of-factly.

"Not more like comparing yesteryear with today, but more than… _you?"_

Jeshua tries to smile apologetically, but fails miserably.

"Talk to me, for fuck's sake. Tell me, that I'm wrong."

"I'm sorry. You're not wrong, I'm afraid." Jeshua straightens his rumpled clothes and leans slightly forward. "I guess you're truly the king of this earthly kingdom."

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ Lucifer groans and shakes his head. Bile rises up his gullet.

Jeshua looks tired. _No, I wouldn't dare to do so._ More weary and brittle than ever. Why didn't he notice before?

"Oh, this is tremendous. Really." Lucifer's heart (why, yes, of course he has one) feels like deflating beat by beat. "What the hell are you expecting? Like serious. You don't get on with your dearest, bloody mankind so well anymore? Are you really that desperate, that you turn to me?" He ignores Jeshua flinching. "Of all goddamned creatures you know. What? Do you want to found a support group, like 'Hello, my name is Jeshua and I'm sick of this shit'--"

"-But bound to it. Tied. With every fiber of my very being," Jeshua disrupts him silently. He's staring past Lucifer now, his gaze is drawn towards the last leaving tourists. Like seeing them for the first time. Maybe he does, indeed. After his recent revelation, Lucifer isn't that sure about things that have been of a certain assurance for him before. So he imagines barren and wind-struck gravel deserts, a certain shade of rotting moss and he can actually smell the salt-laden spume of the northern seasides.

And thus a decent sized glass of liquor materializes in front of him. After a second thought another glass appears, floating towards Jeshua. Who smiles slightly. "Your affection for this gruesome Brennivín should be proof enough," he says ostentatiously.

Lucifer glares at him and downs his drink, welcoming the way the beverage scorches down his gullet.

"You don't hate this as much as you like to declare, Samael. You may hate the Father, His creation and yes, even me. But you love Earth. Not only to hawk vice and spread pain and gather bleakness. You do also savor her treasures." Jeshua nods towards the marble tile besides him, depicting Tellus surrounded by elements. He smiles again, this time crestfallen and full of resignation.

"You're serious," Lucifer observes.

"Yes." Jeshua's fingers fumble with the glass, then dropping it onto the floor between them.

"Why?" He has no idea, why he puts up with this bullshit. Seriously. He should be reeling with laughter, mocking his companion. Grabbing Jeshua's hands and dance with him over Tevere's rippling little waves; trying to push him under the surface from time to time.

Jeshua shrugs. "I can't bear it anymore. I… thought it would be over. Soon. Last Days, you know?"

Lucifer nods numbly.

"They aren't coming. Not as far as I can see."

"I told you so: He framed you, Son of Man. Tied you to this turd." Lucifer coughs a sardonic laugh and lights his cigarette. "You remember those Gnostic guys? Ha, those were fun, really. Guess they died off, because they thought so many knots with their brains, so they forgot to fuck. Anyway, they had this nice little tale about Arbal-Jesus being trapped by God or Satan himself - they could be quite confounding regarding this - inside the human body. He was caught then, and Satan did _unspeakable sexual acts_ with him-- Oh, I really would try those with you, some day! If you're up to it, my liege. You obviously know how to find me."

Jeshua can't glare, but his irises darken. He actually looks like hurt. "I know this story. You forgot the spirit, trapped together with Arbal-Jesus. It's Death and the only hope for him."

Lucifer chuckles. "Okay, I see. And now, my Lord: What do you want from me?"

"I know, that I am bound to this until the End. But I lost my hold of Earth. I ask you to help me." Jeshua's pulse is throbbing at his neck.

Lucifer can smell his human sweat that clings to his fragile scalp. He remembers the taste of Jeshua's dried and split lips. The lingering death. How fucking close was he at that time, ages ago amidst the searing loneliness only a desert can provide you with?

"Help me to revive my grasp," Jeshua continues. "Show me things, I haven't seen. Teach me the things you learned in the absence of light."

Lucifer smiles and though it's vast and showing off his perfect teeth and the sparkling glint in his bronze-alloy eyes is full of mischief, it's sincere. "Then, shall we start with something unspeakable?" he leers.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece and the lyrics in the beginning are borrowed from [MINSK](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCAbO7bSwBI) \- like every other title of the Vestgium Dei series.


End file.
